


To You at the End

by Cassia_Bea



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Alternate Universe - Post-Canon, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Changing Tenses, Death, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Immortality, Mystery, Near Apocalypse, OR IS IT, Post-Canon, What Was I Thinking?, and sprinkle unknown destination, i guess, we put a hot mess and a fucking wreck under the same roof
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-02
Updated: 2020-11-09
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:15:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 20,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27350329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cassia_Bea/pseuds/Cassia_Bea
Summary: "We got plenty of time."After returning from the Underworld, they continue to live on.Until one of them no longer can.(Or: Demons can live far longer than humans. That is a fact, but what is the fate of the ones who inherited both equally?)
Relationships: Dante & Vergil (Devil May Cry)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 78





	1. They Continue to Live On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the Underworld vacation, Vergil stayed with Dante.  
> In an unknown place, he has a cat as a new companion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this and meant for this to be a one-shot, then it evolved into a big one. 
> 
> English is not my first language and this is not beta-read. Everything is Capcom's property except this story.

The runes are intricate, so much so that one needs to have years of experience to unlock it.

Vergil has done them for the millionth time. The movements became muscle memory a long time ago.

Water trickle down the chasms, forming puddles that submerge his soles in the mud. He doesn’t pay too much care. A sound from the nearby rocks has him reaching into his inner pockets before a tail peeking out from behind them.

“Stop following me,” he sighs as he resumes his attention on the rough wall. The answering meow is anything but petulant.

The feline is almost to his boot when the symbols hum and the wall becomes crystalline mirrors. He looks down at the animal, eyes narrowing.

“Should have known not to feed you anything,” he mutters and pushes the cat as gently as he can with his toe.

The mirrors give way to him, shuddering his reflections. The cat is pushed far enough that it bumps against the solid rock when it tries to trail after him. The resounding meows echo the now empty place.

\---

Nero had immediately kicked and then hugged the ever-living _life_ of Dante when their vacation to the Underworld eventually ended.

His twin only laughed and patted the younger hunter. Grinning stupidly but Vergil noticed the fondness in his eyes. At that moment, Dante was more of a father than him. He had awkwardly straightened up and waited until Nero collected himself enough to pull away.

The young man had then looked him in the eyes, void of anything aside from the fleeting familiarity and offered his hand. Vergil shook it with equal strength, sparing them the sudden gravity of the situation.

“Well,” Dante clapped his hands together as he made to the nearest phone booth, “Gotta tell Morrison that I’m back. He can bring my car here.”

“Nico’s van is not far,” Nero called out, “You can stay at our place before going back to the City.”

The thought of having to spend another day under the same roof as his son didn’t sit well with Vergil. Not to mention having to encounter his apparent fiancé and his friend, along with the children they took care of. If what Dante had been telling him during the two years they were in the Underworld, he preferred not to. At least, not yet. He was only spared such time to acclimate himself, after being an incorrigible mess and split into two consciousness.

“Nah, I think I rather have Morrison coming over with the ferry before Trish and Lady start to heighten their crusade for the shop,” Dante grinned and inserted some coins into the booth.

Nero huffed, glancing at Vergil as he rubbed his head and offered his phone.

“Don’t think most have lines around anymore, you old man. Use mine for the time being,” he said and because Nero had a reputation to hold, he added, “I hope your boomer ass know how to use a smartphone for basic calls.”

“Hey! I may be old, but I’m not _that_ old, kid. If anything, I’m not even a boomer,” he said incredulously then typed the numbers in.

The older twin had no idea what that meant.

“Whatever,” Nero said, and Vergil could hear him mutter, “Like who use lines these days, anyway.”

The old-timey phone that was at the van already had its line cut, now acting more as an accessory than anything. While Nero was still unsure to have Devil May Cry on the web, he at least used a more accessible means for clients to call for the service.

The man who Dante called as Morrison arrived later in the afternoon, honking at them which made several bystanders at the harbor turned for a second.

“I can’t believe you tune this baby,” Dante hummed appreciatively when he checked his car over.

Morrison only lifted his hat, “Well, we got to keep the place and its accessories in mint condition now, seeing how you entrusted them to me.”

“Gosh, Morrison, my guy. I _knew_ you were the right person for that,” the hunter grinned.

“Just so you know I’m keeping it on my tab for you to take more missions,” Morrison puffed his cigarette and Dante nodded sagely.

“Right, right. You can do that, payment for keeping my shop intact from the ladies,” he walked over to open the passenger’s door when Morrison piped in, “ _and_ Miss Patty.”

Vergil saw his twin chuckled.

“Yeah, and the little lady.”

He only heard snippets of these people. Most of their time was spent on bickering, fighting against and with each other, then bickering some more until old wounds and misunderstandings smoothed over. There was hardly time for them to recount any personal memories, not that Vergil had that many to begin with.

“Well, see you later, kid,” Dante said, and Vergil entered the opened passenger’s door. The inside was surprisingly clean, the air a bit stale. He wagered he could drive this thing, familiar with the classic gears.

He let his brother chatted a bit more with the two, promising to call and explain more as he then offered Morrison for a ride back. The man declined, saying something along the line of wanting to enjoy a day off at the apparently holy city turned tourist spot and went back later tomorrow. Dante shrugged at that, moving to pat Nero on the shoulder and plopping on the driver’s seat.

The younger of the two pulled out from the parking lot, waving at Nero and Morrison from the rear window. The two waved back, Vergil feeling his son’s eyes on him before they were nothing more than spots as the car drove away.

“Buckle up, Verg. This is going to be a long ride,” he cheerfully warned him, moving to turn on the radio.

He couldn’t help but wrinkled his nose at the music choice.

“What?” Dante’s fingers tapped on the steering wheel.

“As expected, you like music that sounds like this,” he sighed and opted to lean back. It was only noise for him. Something incorrigible and too upbeat.

Of course, Dante took an offend to that, and almost drove them into the sea before he managed to steady the lane. He slumped his shoulders as the cars behind them honked and some yells were thrown. The radio was lowered as they reached the halfway of the route.

The sun was setting, sliding down the horizon. Deep orange and purple painted the sky as they kept on driving. Vergil didn’t know that there would be a freeway long enough to cross the waters from one island to the mainland. It was interesting, with no stops along the way. They passed several cars at the sides, the humans having a moment of rest before continuing their journey.

By the time the car pulled over the old building, it was nighttime. Several people were still out on the streets, the surrounding traffic was light, and the noise pollution settled down on him. The old sign ‘Devil May Cry’ flickered, adding to the rugged charm the shop had. He wondered if Dante ever bothered with renovating the place.

Inside, everything was clean and orderly, aside from some dust that had inevitably settled. His twin had quickly checked over the heavy armaments on the wall. Some nicks of his fingers and the Devil Arms came to live. Humming in waves at his brother. If he didn’t know better about how Devil Arms came to be, Vergil would have thought they were _pleased_ to see Dante.

“The room next to mine is empty,” Dante said as he walked to the bar. “There’s a bed, a drawer, some chairs and a table, though I don’t know if you’re going to like it,”

The poured liquid from one of the higher bottles was gone in one gulp. His brother leaned against the bar, already filling another glass as he let Vergil looked around the place.

For the last twenty years, he had been gone from the human world, scrapping around for enough strength to just get out of the hell he was entrapped in. Back in his youth, he didn’t bother with official papers and documents, seeing them as unnecessary and made use of the money he had to forge identities and for his plan. Thus, right now, materially, his brother was more well-off. Having a roof, a place to rest, and his own things.

“I’ll take it,” he eventually said which led to Dante pointing which door would be his.

He listed off the necessary information for the basics and went off to shower, plopping down right after on his own bed. Vergil scrunched his nose at that, already seeing the dampness on the sheets. The man didn’t care though, already fully asleep.

The older halfling made to move the blankets to cover him more, turning off the lights before he closed Dante’s door and went to his own room.

Yamato was set against the nightstand as he tried to lay there on the bed. Eyes awake with no tell-tale signs of sleep visiting him. Vergil had spent the better part of his life being alert, needing to stay one step ahead of his pursuers when he was a child, then turning into a habit more than anything as he grew. The years being tormented by Mundus and trapped as Nelo Angelo only amplified that need even more.

He heard his brother’s snores and shuffling before settling back to sleep. Then he blinked, remembering how easy it was to put the covers on and his brother didn’t even flinch.

_He deemed him safe enough to do that._

Years ago, Dante would already shoot him as far as the street, and he would be no better. He would use any moment his younger twin letting his guard down to attack. He could imagine them going at it, as clear as his memory of Temen-ni-gru allowed.

The moon was high up in the sky, bathing the room in soft light. He got up and proceeded to draw Yamato, opting to do the usual maintenance now that he couldn’t sleep. The practised movements were meditative, his sword preening at the care. It calmed his mind, giving him time to finally sort the scattered and slipped papers. Trying to label them down and deciding what to do with them.

He was back.

Here in the Overworld that had Dante, Nero, and their friends and families. He could be left on his own devices, free to do as he liked with nothing to stop him from doing so. Aside from raising another demonic tree or committing mass murders. Again.

For the first time in his life, Vergil came up blank. Like a slate wiped clean.

\---

Hands move swiftly to light up the place. Each candle lit and the fireplace stoked.

The thoughts of installing electricity came up once, yet he dismissed it since it meant making noise and unneeded mess. Besides, he has no complaints living without the power grid. Too used to the state of things to change anything.

He drops his coat and jacket on the nearby basket, then proceeds to sink into the chair. He closes his eyes, letting himself breathes for a moment.

\---

Meeting Patty was a surprise.

The first thing he had thought he needed to do after coming back was to gather enough wit to finally call and visit his son. But it seemed like the hurdle of living under the same roof as his brother had shown itself.

“So, you’re Vergil,” the blonde woman said as she scrutinized him. “You look nothing like him,” she commented.

Something about the tone made his brow twitched.

“He’s my _twin,_ ” Dante pointed his fingers from him to Vergil, looking mildly incredulous.

The girl, who was a head shorter than the two, sniffed and put her hand on her hip, “Yeah, I know, I’m not _blind,_ Dante, but looking at him is like comparing a seal to a cat,” she said.

“What’s that supposed to _mean_?” Dante said in a higher tone.

“Ah, nothing, just ignore it. Anyway, so this guy is going to stay with you? Wow, Dante, I never thought you would be willing to _share_ this place,” Patty said and walked to his table.

He looked at her, still silent, but narrowing his eyes ever so slightly when she made to sit on the table.

“He doesn’t have anywhere else to go,” Dante shrugged and pouted when Patty took his pizza slice.

“Hmph, well, whatever. He’s your family still,” she said between munches and Vergil _really_ suspected she saw him more of a stray than a person.

The shorter and younger devil huntress then proceeded to pester Dante about coming for a mission with her. Their debate went completely over Vergil’s head as they negotiated and re-negotiated again and again. He never thought that Dante was the type to be invited to high-class parties.

Several hours later, when Dante dispersed his Devil Sword to the ether, he and Vergil (his brother pulled at his coat’s tail when he was about to sit and read) walked a step behind Patty who looked scuffed but grinning widely.

“Does this mean I don’t have to go to your mother’s birthday dinner?” He asked at the still-beaming huntress.

“Yep, and since you were _generous_ enough to obliterate those smelly nests too, I’ll let you have forty percent of the payment,” she chirped.

Dante whined (Vergil did a double-take at that), complaining that he deserved more than that since he would be smelling like _shit_ for the next three days. The woman, though, only laughed, shaking her head and dropped the envelope on the table.

“Just take a bath with vinegar and tomato juice, then you’ll be fine,” Patty said as a way of goodbye before driving off.

“I’m not a salad!” Dante yelled after her then proceeded to vigorously towelled his wet hair.

They actually had running water and electricity constantly now that Vergil, the meticulous and economic bastard that he was, proceeded to upend how Dante ran his shop. The first thing he attacked was the lobby, spending most of the few months tinkering, cleaning, and reworking the whole place until it looked brand new. Then he did a crusade over Dante’s apocalyptic bookkeeping and almost contemplated chucking Dante into an accounting school just because good grief, he was so, so _terrible._

He kicked at Dante’s legs when the man walked to the hallway still dripping water all over the place.

“Don’t wet the floor,” he said as he went back to sit and opening his book.

His brother clicked his tongue, “Yeah, yeah. I’m drying up,” then walked to his bedroom. Vergil doubted he actually did just that.

“Where’s Dante?” Patty asked one stormy morning. The rain hadn’t let up since midnight and Vergil opted to brew some new tea leaves, he bought.

“Out on a job. Morrison said it takes two days to finish,” he said, and couldn’t help the pettiness of having to look down on the shorter human.

Patty let out a sigh and was standing around the shop with Vergil ignoring her for filling out the logbook before she cleared her throat.

“Oh, well, you’ll do,” she said as she tilted her head at him. He still bristled at the way she did that.

“I have a job, a big one. Hunting down what seemed to be a naga’s nest at an abandoned factory site,” a slip of paper was handed to him.

“I thought of going in alone, but since nagas are nasty creatures and I don’t want to risk losing the reward, I guess splitting it would be worth it if I can exterminate them,” she watched as Vergil read over the request form.

“How much is the share?” He asked.

“Three percent of the total pay,”

“Not enough, nagas have acid saliva and are extremely swift, not to mention their poisonous claws,” he said, not breaking eye contact with her.

Patty quirked her lips, “You sure are different than Dante,” she sighed and made to grab her guns. “I’ll give you five if you help me carry the heads back.”

It was an odd request, but Vergil saw the payment and it was a hefty one, even with the split. He grabbed Yamato and after scribbling on a piece of paper, slipped it under the telephone and followed Patty out of the shop.

The drive was less than two hours. It could have been longer, but Patty was pressing and even sometimes going over the speed limit. The man almost elected to use Yamato for a shortcut.

The two demon hunters arrived at the crumbling building and in an instant, Vergil smelled the rotting flesh of humans. No wonder the client was willing to pay an obscene amount. These nagas were a pair and the female needed nourishment to lay her eggs. He saw Patty getting ready from the corner of his eyes, safety clicking off and what seemed to be a bouton crackling with electricity.

Patty’s primness hid a wild side.

Crowing, taunting, and bad one-liners colored her fights. Fast movements and strong thighs jumped from one beam to another, making good use of her body’s flexibility. Vergil pulled Yamato out when the male, smaller of the two targets attacked him. The poison was a hindrance to going straight for the head, flicking out of the fangs and burned. The muscles on the long body were almost bone-crushing with the way it caught Vergil’s leg. If this pest decided to rip his dear coat, Vergil would rain swords until they turned him into a pulp.

“Suck on that, you fucker,” Patty whooped when her bouton eventually hit the naga right on the forehead. The whole body spasmed, and had kept on twitching when it fell dead tongue lolling.

“You fought well,” Vergil commented as he made to hack at the necks. The blood was wiped clean before he sheathed Yamato back.

“Thanks, you’re not so bad yourself,” she said, and Vergil almost felt himself bristling again when he noticed the mischievous gleam in her eyes.

Oh, Vergil swiftly thought, she was a fellow ‘cat’ then.

“You’ve got to teach me that cool manoeuvre back then. It looked so deadly and efficient,” she said on the way back with them both carrying the severed heads.

“Yamato won’t allow just anyone to wield her,” Vergil stated, not out of pride but mere fact.

“Awe, that’s too bad. Makes me wonder if I should learn to wield another weapon,” she said, tapping her guns.

“You’re still young, you can always try,” he looked at her as they neared the place where she parked her car.

The heads were thrown into the trunk, already been covered with a tarp to not stain the interior, and Vergil was glad that she chose to ride back in a more relative speed. The road was less smooth than the city ones.

Patty flicked the radio on before looking at Vergil out of the corner of her eyes, “You know what,” she started as she rolled down the window, “You’re not so bad.”

At that Vergil turned to raise an eyebrow at her, “What do you mean?”

She gave a wry smile, “I thought at first you would be just there to spread gloom all over the shop. That place was sometimes too dingy, and Dante never seemed to bother with it. I almost made a bet that you wouldn’t be staying there for long and left in less than a week,” the car’s headlight was lit up to let a passerby crossed the road. “But the shop looks so much better in years, and I don’t know what black magic you use,” she waved her hand, “seeing _Dante_ looking clean and actually not reusing the same clothes over and over again. Not to mention not drowning in debt are actually impressive,” she said.

That… didn’t sound quite like Dante. The memory he had when they were kids was while Dante always ended up dirty one way or another and sometimes drove Eva (and him) insane with how all over the place he was, Dante loved being clean and his room was not the total shipwreck he had seen back at the shop. He was the type to dirty himself headfirst but also jumped with satisfied glee into the tub at the end of the day. The debt thing had been glaringly apparent during his scrutiny at the finances, something peculiar since Dante was diligent, something that was always there under all his attitudes.

“I see,” Vergil said at the revelation Patty shared and nothing more.

The two lulled into a companionable silence until they arrived back at the shop. Patty promised to wire the money as soon as she received it and drove off after thanking him again with the job. The thick envelope on the table later was enough to make his younger brother baulked a bit, then proceeded to interrogate him about its source. When Vergil said it was from Patty, his eyes went comically wide, then muttering under his breath on how unfair that she relented to Vergil.

Somehow, _somehow,_ he and Patty formed a sort of comradery and had more than once launched a coup against Dante. From simple things like making him clean his room and actually care about washing his laundry with certain detergents, to the other things such as pestering him to set out a minimum payment of service, except if the client couldn’t afford it. Most of the time they could pay, they were just frugal about it. Contrary to public beliefs, Patty complained to him that Dante tended to take jobs from Morrison with little regards of the pay, going by the principle as long as he got paid, which was a bit of an oversight.

“I hate you both,” Dante complained as he tilted his chair back.

The pizza boxes laying around had also greatly diminished as Vergil insisted that they should be having other things, even if their constitution didn’t necessarily dictate that they followed proper nutrients and intake. The blond only slapped at his shoulder as she made way to the bar. 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever, Dante. Now, you promise to go this time, so come on, go change,” she shooed him away as she grabbed a glass.

Dante eyed her for a second before rubbing his face, “Gosh, you’re already legal huh,” he sighed at her holding one of his more prized liquors. He only got a grin and added with how Vergil was tapping his foot, the devil hunter quickly climbed the stairs to his room.

The woman shook her head and when she saw Vergil’s disapproving look, Patty only shrugged and made to drink the whole glass down. The dinner party was one with the older ones, more guests coming from her mother’s social circle and honestly, a hint of alcohol would give her the boost to pass through the night. These kinds of people were just _boring_ if she didn’t have anyone to accompany her. Her new comrade (friend?) had been interested when she mentioned that there would be people from the museum and arts there, knowing that at least a few of them were genuinely passionate about the subjects and were a delight to talk to. Patty was just happy that she finally had someone that could persuade Dante to come with her. They really missed a lot of time since she became a devil huntress.

The silver-haired man peaked from the railings, looking mildly annoyed at the tie he had to put on. His hand kept coming up to loosen it as they filed into Patty’s car.

“At least, tell me that the food is going to be good,” he said when they arrived at the venue. The music had started to play, and the murmur of people was heard.

“The best in town, Dante. Don’t you worry,” Patty winked and gestured for them to follow her.

He watched as his brother sighed and combed his hair, giving Vergil a look, then proceeded to walk with Patty. From the steps behind them, Vergil could see his twin putting his hand on Patty’s back with hers on his arm. The gesture reminded him of the display after Patty had done talking Dante’s ears off that first time around, she hugged him, muttering into it. He saw from the kitchen how Dante’s hand patted her head with a soft smile that Vergil had almost stepped back from.

Almost.

\---

He catches the frame before it hits the ground, cursing at his clumsiness. It is then put back on the drawer, one of many decorating it. The clock managed to jolt him when he was closing his eyes. Hands reflexively lashing out and knocked the wooden frame off.

After making sure that everything is not out of place, he gets up from the chair, moving to turn the clock’s key. He contemplates to silence it, but at the last moment, he leaves it be. Ticking away the silence.

\---

Fortuna was a quaint island all things considered. The people were scattered all over, concentrated into towns with the centre being the biggest. It was where Nero and Kyrie lived.

The first few days, Vergil had used Dante as a buffer between him and his own son. Whenever they were going out to help the shopping or guarding the perimeters, he stood closer to his brother. It worked out pretty well until its merits expired.

Kyrie and the children dragged Dante for another day at the beach. His twin brother was more than happy to indulge them, swinging some kids’ hands together with his and having a firm grip, on the other hand, holding a small boy. They left with laughter and squealing until the last possible buffer, Nico, excused herself and moved to work on whatever it was that she currently obsessed over at the garage.

Which left Nero being woefully unprepared to share a room with his estranged (deadbeat) father. Across from him, Vergil kept on ignoring him, leafing through the newest book about some world history from Patty him as a winning gift for the bet they made during one of their shared jobs. The young Sparda forcefully focused himself on some newly fangled weapons that needed maintenance.

“Have you ever thought about making it into a Devil Arm?” Nero jolted when his father broke the silence after an hour.

He blinked, “Uh, what?”

“A Devil Arm, something that can be gained when you defeated a strong enough demon,” Vergil explained and closed his book. “While I see that you use mostly human weapons, it can be done.”

Huh, he didn’t know about that, Nero scratched his head. “Really? Nico would be happy if she hears this, she likes to experiment a _lot_ ,” he emphasized the word.

And at the mention of the word ‘experiment’, Vergil had his interest piqued (it was rare to encounter humans whose sole purpose on dealing with demonic matters as entirely scientific or even for curiosity’s sake). Nero had then found himself explaining where Nico was coming from, the basics information, of course, because Nero was raised to respect people’s private business damn it, then after a few questions here and there, Nico barged in to use him as a guinea pig again. Seeing the woman face to face, holding something questionable and definitely volatile in nature, Nero had a feeling that she was on her way to idolize the other twin when _Vergil_ initiated a conversation.

It still ended up with him being almost burned alive by Nico’s invention. She didn’t look the least bit apologetic, the fucker, as he ran water on his almost singed hair and drained the rest of the bottle. His father stood at the sideline, eyes calculating. The rest of the trek back to his house was filled with Nico’s excited chatters blended in with Vergil’s rare remarks.

He felt a tiny bit jealous deep down.

Several weeks later, after he sulked to Kyrie and Dante looking at Goldstein’s granddaughter chatting Vergil up but managed to not get booted through a portal, Nero found himself facing a very, very ugly mug of a demon along with Vergil.

“Don’t stand in my way, you cretin,” the behemoth hissed. Gosh, its breath stunk.

“No can do, buddy. You landed on my turf, get ready to get your ass kicked,” he revved up Red Queen.

The towering demon roared, extracting itself fully from the small hell gate. There were still some fanatics out there who tried to finish what the Order left behind. What a bunch of idiots.

“My business is not you,” the demon growled, looking past his shoulders and Nero knew Vergil was standing behind.

“Fight me, Son of Sparda,” it roared yet Vergil spared him no words. It only riled the beast more, charging over that Nero jumped out of the way.

Feeling annoyed at being ignored, Nero shot three bullets with Blue Rose. They hit the talons, making the beast whipped his head around again to him.

“Don’t interrupt, you lowly human unworthy of the Sparda blood,” it spat at him. “My fight is with his direct descendant, not _you,_ ” the voice sounded disgusted and it made something snapped in Nero.

Oh, he heard some nasty things when he fought the more sentient ones, them recognizing the blood running through his veins, and most, if not all, sneered at him. Taunting him and demeaning him to the point that Nero just used that as a window to land his strikes.

He should have been used to this by now, but something about the past weeks with how indifferent Vergil with him aside from few awkward conversations (even _Nico_ of all people was comfortable with the bastard), took its toll on him, and _this_ was just taking the cake.

His teeth bared as he started to unleash his trigger _just because_ before the behemoth got thrown away by a blow from Vergil. Its massive body toppled several pillars of the abandoned temple. Nero’s eyes flicked to his father who got Beowulf equipped. The man was about to complain and called for the shot when Vergil cut him to it.

“Whether he has the same amount of Sparda’s blood or not does not matter,” Vergil said, and Nero felt a bit chilled with the tone. “He is still a Sparda through and through. Thus, don’t you _dare_ mock my father’s legacy,” Beowulf was then dismissed, and Vergil walked to the other side of the temple.

The nod his father gave Nero was more than just simple permission, it was as if he paved and rolled a carpet for Nero to take the stage. He felt rather than saw how Vergil’s eyes gleamed a bit, _approving_ when he triggered with a bloodthirsty smile. Red Queen was ready, fire blazing, and Nero came down hard on the demon lord. The whole place was filled with his cackling, releasing the stress building up ever since his father and Dante arrived at Fortuna, and most of all, the sudden sheer _exhilaration_ that his own father, his own _family_ had defended his honour and letting him had the all the fun.

After coming down from the high and he let his trigger dropped, he looked upon the fading ashes of the demon lord. On its wake, a claw was there, brimming with energy. He picked it up, following Vergil back to the house like a giddy puppy. When Nico received the claw and hearing Nero actually suggesting things, the three spent almost all night at the garage.

The conversation between him and his father was still stilted, yet it flowed more naturally now. Both sides bouncing topic to the other. It was not perfect, not by any stretch of means, but it was a start. If nothing else.

Dante, Kyrie, and the children were around the house more, Nero then noticed. It was only after he caught Dante’s discreet smiles that he just _knew_ they had been set up.

\---

The flowers around the place are dutifully changed. He will pick the best ones from the garden, making sure he puts the arrangements perfectly before he places them in each room.

Gardening demands patience and agile hands. Two things he is well-equipped with. Not to mention it fills the time and it is interesting to test seeds and crossing types. The results don’t always come out good, but it’s alright, he likes to learn new things as a pastime.

\---

Vergil meant it when the two of them had cleared things between them when they were in the Underworld.

Mostly.

It would be foolish to think that those mere two years would fix and padded the bridge perfectly. There were things still hidden; gradually exposed with the waves of time or when the surface was scraped too much that it finally showed. The metaphorical bridge had been ultimately left to rot under its own weight for almost two decades.

Yet what Vergil started to realize was that while he still had his own problems that would rear their ugly heads at times, Dante had skeletons that he shoved everywhere. Under the floor, in the closet, between every crack, camouflaged in the walls, even under his pillows. The most hidden one though was there on plain sight - under the glass.

In a twisted sense of relief, Vergil was glad he had the mind to sever his own selves with Yamato. Had the fortune to cheat his way around by using the sword he inherited. Had been given the chance to _breathe_ , because being half of both worlds was paradoxically a gift and a curse. Even at the cost of _thousands,_ Vergil had been granted a reprieve and was humbled because of it. For once in his life, he saw the katana in his hand and thought ‘ _Thank you, father_.’ Not just Sparda’s weapon or his birthright, no, only pure gratefulness as to be gifted such a powerful weapon that kept him safe and sane for all these years. He had once wanted Rebellion, way back then when he was a child. Just a small inkling, a curiosity to see if it would call to him. The claymore never answered, never buzzed in his hands, and he came back to Yamato. Seeking consolation from her at the blatant rejection.

His little brother had his own Devil Sword leaning against the bar. Head pillowed by his own arms; empty glasses scattered around. Vergil swiped the broken shards under his shoes, thinning his lips at the blood spots. He could hear Dante’s snores, could hear the steadiness in his breathing that he was passed out. The need to shake him awake and pushed him to take a cold shower was great, but Vergil couldn’t help as to brush some locks away. To see the frowning, the stressed lines, _the tear tracks._

It was not the first time he saw Dante like this.

Having to share living spaces with someone else for an unknown period was bound for a whole can of worms opening up. The twins knew that, had expected it, really, that when the inevitable happened, they let it out. Shouting, debating, and often, would draw blood. Their language too much embedded in crossing swords rather than words because the latter were tricky and insidious if done wrong.

It didn’t mean that Vergil wanted for them to stay that way.

If the adolescent him were to meet Vergil now, he would laugh and deny that he was truly him. Pride and anger had been everything to him. The former he claimed because he was the Son of Sparda and the latter he nurtured ever since fires burnt down their house and demons killed their mother. They had been his fuel, which was why it devastated him when Dante defeated him. His brother was too brash, too _alive_ that had made Vergil _livid_ when he met him again. How dare he lived a free life, not having to fight, not having to use his sword that early in life. How lucky and loved Dante was, the one their mother had favored. _To never lose anything._

But pride was no longer useful, and anger tired him as he became whole again.

Pride had plunged him right into Mundus’ hands, it had destroyed his soul. He no longer found any reason to be angry, not at the world, especially not at Dante. There was a fleeting voice at the back of his mind, suspiciously sounding like V that asked, ‘What would Mother think if she were alive?’ He pushed that away. There was no need for such wishful thinking. To dig more regret and letting yourself be buried by it. Yet the voice was there, chastising him when he messed up. Especially when he had done something that Patty called ‘royally fucked up’. 

Taking the initiative after a big fight was not Vergil’s forte. Not having been in contact with anyone for a prolonged time could greatly hinder one’s capability at basic human interactions. When enough lull passed, Dante and he would make up. Talking like the adults they were that Nero beamed like a proud parent (the irony). Those were his ideal ending. Often than not, he only made it worse. The exchanged words becoming sharper and sharper, umbrageous weapons aiming at each other. Those days he would find himself alone in the shop while Dante went out. Not returning until weeks later and acting as if everything were normal again. Vergil was morbidly astonished by how _talented_ of an actor his little brother had become. How deceptively easy he made it for people to not see the underneath. During one of their bouts, Vergil silently likened his little brother to a papier-mâché tiger.

V’s voice was always the strongest when the twin went their separate ways to let off steam. It sounded accusing, prodding at him until it created headaches. He had _seen_ V’s memories. Rushing back into him as he stabbed Urizen. The sudden threat he felt when Dante heard his brother’s name, the feigned casualty, and the more genuine treatments as they talked more. What his younger twin didn’t know was that V had _cared,_ in his own way. It was almost scary that that side of his became a bit attached to Dante, along with his familiars who were sad that they needed to fight against him at the end.

“Verg…?” Dante’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts.

He cleared his throat as he looked down on him. “We need to clean the glasses up,” he said and went to find the broom.

His brother was still slumped against the bar, only lifting his feet up to let Vergil gather the shards. His hands gently pulled Dante afterwards, half dragging to deposit him on the sofa. The stench of alcohol was so potent the older twin wrinkled his nose. The hunter only grinned weakly, still somewhere in-between.

“Sorry,” he slurred and made to curl on his right side, eyes lidded.

Vergil didn’t answer, instead draping some blankets over him and drawing the curtains to dim the moonlight. He was about to turn in when a hand timidly grabbed at his shirt.

When Dante had drunk enough that if he were fully human would absolutely kill him ten times over, he was moodier and more open. It was disconcerting that he needed to resort to _this._

They didn’t exchange any more words and Vergil stayed. Standing by as Dante’s eyes started to droop but never straying from where his twin was. During these quiet nights, Dante allowed Vergil to see him like this, too tired to even hide. Tears too visible to cover and a deep grounded sadness too raw to reveal.

Distantly, Vergil remembered the shop’s name and thought how _fitting_ it was.

\---

The cat appears again when he walks back out into the cave. Meowing and purring at his feet. Contrary to the usual, the feline trails after him. Never indicating that it will stop. Vergil sighs and makes to teleport midway, stunning the cat that it stares at the empty spot.

\---

“I can’t take this, old man,” Nero sounded exasperated.

Dante leaned back on his heels, decidedly pushing his hands into his pockets. His son glanced at him, brows furrowing, but he only crossed his arms. Also refusing to take the small box back.

“See? Even your dear old pops agree with me,” Dante grinned.

Nero was looking less and less composed, “This is important to you!” He said and whipped his head to Vergil, “Are you really sure to let Dante giving me this?”

“If I didn’t, we wouldn’t be here now, do we?” He asked as he looked at the small box in Nero’s hands, “Your grandmother would have wanted for you to use it.”

It was true. Eva had been keeping it safe as long as he could remember. His mother’s wedding ring was never on her finger, saying that it wouldn’t do to scratch, or worse, lose it when she was around the house. Especially when taking care of two half-demon boys. Vergil had only seen his mother wore the ring when she was alone, leaning against the window and caressing it. The afternoon light illuminated Eva’s face so intricately that Vergil ended up not entering. Swallowing down the complaints about Dante stealing his books again.

When he opened his eyes to hear clanking sounds in the early morning, Vergil was ready to face with the sight of scattered and ruined bottles, only to see Dante shuffling around wooden boxes. He had half of his body inside one of the bigger ones, hands pulling and putting things back. He was glaringly awake and with a bedhead. The mention of the blue velvet-covered box was enough for him to shut his mouth and joined in the search. The small thing was wedged in a vase that Dante uncaringly broke. His brother raised an eyebrow at Vergil with his lips tilted upwards after, palming the thing.

The news was not a surprise at all. Vergil had long expected it, especially after Nero took more jobs and spent his free time peeking around specific shops. It was becoming more noticeable to both twins when he dropped by to ask for a second opinion on things like lands, houses, and nuanced financial matters. He knew where this was going, besides Nero was a terrible liar. Still, he indulged his son by playing nonchalantly until one day Nero told him when they were sitting at the park. The conversation had been mundane, and Nero used the noises around them to distract him at having to look at his father about his planned proposal. The young Sparda had a small tinge to his face when Vergil easily accepted it. A warning and blessing blended in his voice.

To do right by his words and to be there together with Kyrie. To not disappear like Sparda did and especially not like him. _To be better._

Dante patted Nero’s shoulder, “Look, kid,” he said, “Just take it. See this as our gift to you both. It’s better this way, and besides,” he shrugged, “it’s not like either of us is going to get hitched soon.”

“Hmph,” Vergil only said.

It took Nero’s several moments, opening and closing the box. He may not have good eyes for things like jewelry, but it was a beautiful ring. Kyrie would love it.

“Okay, okay,” he sighed, “I’ll take this. Thank you,” Nero looked at his uncle and his father, “I appreciate this,” and moved to put the ring into his coat for safekeeping.

Dante smiled, waving him away.

“When are you going to propose to her?” He asked his son.

“Uh, I don’t know, I was still looking for a ring but now,” he scratched his cheek, “maybe somewhere at the end of the month. The kids are going on a retreat with their school.”

“I see,” Vergil nodded then added, “Don’t make her wait too long,” which made Nero blanched.

Dante laughed, digging his arm at Nero, “Yeah, kid. Don’t stall, young people, are usually impatient, right,” he grinned and kept on digging at him.

“Fuck you, old man,” Nero swiped at Dante, “Stop making this embarrassing.”

But Dante was always a bit of a major shit, so he whistled and kept on grinning, baiting and throwing suggestive things at his son that they ended up combating each other again. Vergil left them going at it, instead browsing through some catalogue of incoming concerts.

\---

The cat is drinking the milk. He has given up trying to dissuade it.

It isn’t brave enough yet to explore the place further, only circling around the lobby. Good, it needs to be trained first before Vergil lets the feline making itself home. He watches mildly as it keeps on licking the liquid with gusto and makes a mess around the bowl. His hand tilts the pitcher again when it finishes.

Maybe having a pet is going to be a good addition.

\---

Trish and Lady were on another level, and that was comparing them with the likes of _him._

The two women were eccentric, willful, and had another different set of neural networks. Going on a job with the two was bound to be a ride. He usually preferred Trish, because she may be a demon, but her self-preservation was infinitely better than Lady. Often than not, Vergil got the other end of the already short stick with explosions and the bullets the human never seemed to run out of. Whenever he came back, Dante just laughed, already moving to throw him a towel as he beelined to the shower. Automatically grabbing his older brother’s coat and mending it. 

It was initially unexpected to see Dante pulling out a sewing box and had proceeded to fix their clothes. Dante sassed him back for that. Saying that who would have imagined that _Vergil_ of all people liked to bake and made such cute ass pastries? Touché then, he conceded and left it at that. (The children at the orphanage loved his creations, with Patty continually bothering him to make this and that).

The coat was already folded on his bed when he finished scrubbing the grimes and some icky blood since Lady deemed it was fine to just shoot the leeches on him since he could heal. Her apology after didn’t sound convincing at all. Opting to leave his coat there, he grabbed a shirt and pants before he walked down again. Intending to count the money and filled out the usual finishing form. He didn’t trust Dante to write it eligibly. The younger twin only smiled when he said that and was looking mighty glad, he wasn’t going to be dragged in another one of Vergil’s severe needs to be meticulous.

The two women didn’t call them for another two months before the phone rang, and they dropped a massive job. Just three days before the wedding.

“Sorry,” Trish said when they met her and Lady. “But I think you can see why we need you,” she gestured to the valley below.

It was a massacre. Demons ripping into the villagers and drawing their blood. Screams and cries rising high enough to reach them. The earth was turning red, the smells forever settling there. Dante wasted no time jumping headfirst, triggering as he landed. The demons raised their heads at the newcomer, roaring and pulled by the strength. They turned to ash in an instant.

Vergil let his brother obliteration. Standing back just a distance away as he told the two women to stand back and shoot any escaping one. He already was in his trigger form, watching and waiting until Dante had his fill and regained clarity. The stray demons around him quickly beheaded by Yamato.

Of course, his brother reacted this way. So violently, as if each of these demons offended him and spit at their mother’s grave. Some of Mundus’ loyal generals that were still alive thought they could _revive_ his corpse by raising another, albeit smaller Qliphoth. The coruscant, pulsing fruit at its budding phase in the desecrated village’s center. There was enough human blood already to have it dripped with them.

A horned, bipedal demon looked at him when he came near. Claws already extending and the mouth opened into four as they hissed. To his left, Vergil could see another one, this time shrouded with a serrated scythe as an arm.

“You won’t stand in our way to get our master back, son of the traitor Sparda,” they said with voices that sounded like nails on boards.

“I think I will,” Vergil calmly said, and Yamato was drawn. “You have lost yet you foolishly believe this _puny_ fruit would be your salvation,” he threw an unimpressed look at the Qliphoth.

“Lies! You just want this all to yourself, to steal this and lay waste on us, even when you are unworthy,” they sneered.

He couldn’t help but bark out a laugh, “Such absurdity! I had raised a _better_ one and its power eclipsed whatever this jest is supposed to be,” he said, and because he felt vicious, he added, “Your master died easily. So much fear and absolute submission he demanded, yet at the end,” Vergil could hear the oncoming thunder of Dante, “he was bested and killed by the ones he had failed over and over again to destroy.”

And it was _satisfying_ when he finally drove Yamato into Mundus’ face. His shocked and bloodied eyes staring back at him. Indignation with the sliver of absolute _fear_ and humiliation that the one he had tortured and enslaved had become more powerful. Destroying his throne and him with it. Dante had let him have the honor. Hanging back as he watched Mundus turning into mere bones and melted flesh. Couldn’t hide the glee to see their mother’s death avenged.

Speaking of the devil, after Vergil had taunted the generals, Dante almost barreled through him. Skidding to a stop and immediately focused. Apparently having some clarity back by the way he no longer ferally held himself.

“You’re going to start the party without me,” Dante rumbled.

“You’re just late,” he shrugged.

“Not cool, bro. We got to time it perfectly if you want this to be fair,”

“Like you finally learn how to count,”

Dante pointed his sword at the one with the scythe and said, “Mine,” then zooming full force that the demon planted their sharp feet to the ground. He sighed, swinging Yamato at the stunned bipedal one. It snarled, still taking offence from his previous words and charged. Good, he grinned as he let out his spectral swords, things had become a bit boring lately.

Nighttime had fallen when they reverted to human forms.

The younger twin looked around at the broken buildings and scattered bodies. Frown tugging his lips as he poked the beating fruit. Without preamble, he slashed at it until only pulps remained. The puddle staining his boots.

“Where is Mundus’ corpse?” He asked, eyes still looking at the boots.

“Let’s find it,” Vergil answered, and he gently pulled at Dante’s arm.

His brother allowed it, following him behind with his hand in Vergil’s own. It reminded him when they were children, if not for the pungent smell and sulfur surrounding them. Dante didn’t say anything as they searched around, at last founding the lump on the altar of the only church in the village. They burned it and let the fire spread. Trish had told them that it was such a backwater village that it wasn’t even on the map. There was the concern of someone coming back, but it was highly unlikely. So, they let the fire spread by the wind, licking ambers at the houses and bodies. The weather was hot enough that the whole place turned into a lake of fire in mere minutes.

Trish and Lady didn’t say much when they returned, knowing visible in their eyes when they saw Dante. The ride back was silent, with Dante flicking his eyes to the rearview mirror from the backseat. The smoke still visible even miles after they drove away. He let Dante kept hold of his hand, his brother leaning his head on his shoulder.

When they reached the shop, the birds chirped in the early dawn. The women thanked them and gave their share before heading for Lady’s home. Dante released his hand and Vergil had thought he would head to the bar as he divested his coat, then instead, headed upstairs. He trailed after his brother, keeping several steps away until he reached his room. Hands had immediately held his coat’s tail when Vergil made to go to his own, stopping his track and turned his head at Dante.

His brother buried his face to the pillow as Vergil’s arms ended up encircling him. The bed was large enough for them, having some more space to move around. He didn’t feel tired, though it was nice for his muscles to relax after prolonged exertion. His brother didn’t move, face still covered with the pillow. The older twin reckoned that Dante was on his way to sleep before he heard soft sniffles.

The sound twinged the strings in his chest and that familiar voice (V’s voice) mildly hinting at him.

_Oh, of course._

The fires and the blood. The dead humans. The reappearance of the Qliphoth.

Those were enough for him to tighten his hold around Dante. His brother burying deep into his arms. Shoulders minutely shaking. Damp spots would surely be on the sheet thereafter. He stayed silent, ignoring the rising sunlight filling the room and made to cover them both more.

Vergil’s hand rubbed the corner of his eyes, moving stray locks over. His twin looked peaceful when he slept, exempting the wet cheeks, as his lines eased. Vergil traced them and pondered if he also hid his skeletons here too.

He let the thought go, opting to make himself comfortable and closed his eyes. Dante let Vergil hold him for the next hours. Not relinquishing even after he fell into slumber. If it were any other thing, he would have left Dante when he was already asleep, but his brother kept such a tight grip at his shirt and Vergil couldn’t find it inside him to loosen it.

The two rested on until the bustling and roaming of people and vehicles outside became louder.

\---

He grabs the cat by her nape when she keeps on scratching one of the doors.

“Don’t test my patience, Lily,” he glowers, moving her to the garden. “Keep on doing that and I’ll close the door on you,” the cat meows at that. Vergil sighs, then resume to plant the new bulbs he acquired.

The soil is good for tulips this time around.

It will complement the roses he has cultivated, blooming and in full health in part of his intensive ministrations. It was one of the few flower types that he keeps on growing.

\---

Nero was pissed when they arrived right before the wedding ceremony but calmed down enough when Mundus and the Qliphoth were brought up.

“So that fucker is gone for good?” He said as he smoothed his tie again and again.

“Yes, he is,” Vergil stopped his hands.

Nero nodded, looking satisfied at that, and put an empathetic hand on his shoulder. His son only knew bits and pieces that Vergil had willingly let out, enough to draw a picture. It had upset him, so much so that Vergil almost felt offended at the pity reflected in his eyes before he reigned himself. His son didn’t mean to do so, in fact, it was the opposite. It was only that Nero was kind, under the layers of rogue punkishness. Any hurt done to his family he would take to heart.

“Enough of that,” he turned to look at the gathering people. “Are you ready?” 

Nero fixed his tie one last time before he let out a breath. Straightening himself and faced his father head-on.

“Yeah, I’m ready,” he answered, and Vergil knew that he was.

It made something swelled in his chest.

“Good, then go. Your wedding is about to start,” he stepped away and headed to the front seats.

The ceremony was a small one, where the officiant was one of their neighbors with most of the attendees were the children. Nico, in rare times, wore a suit that was pressed and not smoking. Sandwiched between Lady and Trish, the latter thankfully getting the memo and came wearing a dress. His brother managed to sit still, legs crossed, with his hands already loosening the tie. He pointedly ignored Vergil’s glare. The vows were done quick and simple. Kyrie and Nero looked beautiful together, he would be lying if he didn’t see them as such at that moment. She wore a lovely gown, pale yellow rather than white. Contrasting Nero’s deep blue tuxedo with accents. Around her finger glinted his mother’s ring. It fit perfectly.

They all clapped when the couple made it official and the day was perfect.

At the backyard of the house, food and drinks were passed around. Merriment filled the air as music played and the newlyweds danced around. Several children were twirling around them. His brother had become de facto guitarist. For once, not doing riffs and outrageous sounds, alternatively picking to strumming swaying, cheerful notes. The summer heat was bearable as the evening rolled in, some of the guests ceasing their fanning.

“How are you not warm under this weather?” Patty asked across the table. Her glass of iced tea refilled for the fourth time. She took a big gulp before pointing her finger at him, “Is it some kind of magic?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he sighed as he swirled his own drink. A can of soda sweating in his hand. “I just don’t overdress, that’s all.”

“Hey! It’s a wedding, of course, I’m going all out,” she slammed her glass on the table. “You’re just an odd one.”

“I’m not the one wearing a _leather_ coat in the summer,” he sipped his drink, “So, I think I’m more normal than Dante.”

Patty raised her hands, “Okay, that’s true. Looking at him stifles me,” she looked at the man. “At least, he dressed up properly for the event. What did you do?”

Vergil raised one shoulder and smirked over the can, “Magic.”

To which Patty laughed, “Yeah, right. You threatened his budget for strawberry sundaes, didn’t you?”

“I dangle that _and_ pizza if he wouldn’t wear the suit,” he said, and Patty snickered.

“You’re amazing,” she shook her head and pushed her chair. “I think I’m joining the dance floor, care to join?” But that was just rhetorical, and she left the table.

Vergil huffed, leaning more into his seat.

The night was still young, and the party didn’t show signs of stopping. He crossed his legs and arms as he watched them. His son had taken to swinging the kids on his arms as his daughter-in-law hoisted one of the smaller ones in hers. They smiled, face flushed, and swayed with the tune of Dante’s guitar.

The scene before him was achingly good. Whatever this was that he was feeling, nestled deep inside him. Kindling the stab of nostalgia for his childhood, the only precious bit of his past. He looked at them ( _his family)_ having a moment of joy and wished he could suspend this moment. Another day would arrive, and a new chapter for the Sparda would start.

This night would pass, left behind in the passage of time, but like the sense of epiphany that first night at the shop, Vergil realized that this family of his would be safe.

Mundus was defeated and his generals had all but gone. He and Dante were powerful, with Nero still growing in leaps and bounds. The Underworld and demons would still exist, but now…

Now this time, the Sparda were strong and complete and ready.

\---

Lily perches on his shoulder as he turns the keys. Leaning her head on him, while her tail flicked lazily. On his arm is a fresh bouquet of roses, still glistening with water. He pushes the door open with the other arm, careful not to tilt the tray in hand.

In the first instance when you enter the room, you’ll notice the picture frames and abundant books. The bedroom has a fireplace, the flames stoking lowly. All the curtains are drawn, letting the morning sun in. The balcony is cracked open to allow the room some air. Wooden furniture decorates the place, some having vases of roses and other flowers. One of them is refilled with the fresh bouquet, the wilted ones discarded to the nearby bin. He deposits the tray on the table, sliding some books to read next to it. Lily has chosen to hop down to explore the room. He lets her be as he pours the tea and mixes some cream into the cup.

When he sees her clawing the sheets from the corner of his eyes, does he move to get his hands on her and raises the feline to his level.

“If you want to stay on the bed, then be _gentle,_ ” he says and makes his voice rumbles to emphasize his words. The feline lowers her ears for a minute, then paws at his face.

He nods, “Alright then,” and the cat plops on the fluffy comforters.

She sniffs around, then slowly approaches the hand. She rubs at it and makes to nose around further upwards. He watches her as he brushes overdue locks from his brother’s face.

Dante’s eyes are closed, his breathing constantly even, and the continuous sniffing of Lily near his face doesn’t make him so much as twitches.

He never wakes up to anything. Nothing ever does. Not since as long as Vergil can remember now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- I chucked Patty and Vergil to be bros because I like it and think it's hilarious  
> \- I'm a sucker for Dante and Patty relationship after I rewatched the anime because that's some good shit  
> \- Headcanon Dante can sew because he rips his clothes a lot and he's broke all the time.  
> \- Imagining Vergil able to bake grabbed me by the throat and slammed me to the ground.
> 
> While having demon blood has its perks like always surviving getting stabbed and near-invisibility now that the twins are strong, I always think it would have its downsides. Say, what happens after everyone they know reach their expiry date? They are demons, that's true, but are humans too, and we all know how humans are not meant to live forever. Aside from being scientifically impossible, the mind and psyche can only bear so much after all. Especially if we talk about Dante who is the most human of the two. 
> 
> Comments and kudos are my fuels and greatly appreciated!  
> [My Twitter](https://twitter.com/blankballs) and [My Tumblr](https://cassia-bea.tumblr.com/)


	2. They (still) Continue to Live On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Days of the past and the present

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> English is not my first language and this is not beta-read. Everything is Capcom's property except this story.

Vergil didn’t understand but the toddler seemed to like latching at him. Every. Single. Time.

For the umpteenth time, he lifted his book up from grabby fingers, mildly perplexed. The small thing though, just laughed, and made to climb on him.

“Awe, seems like the little lady likes grandpa,” Dante snickered from his spot at his desk. He tilted seconds away from getting his face stabbed.

“Do shut up, brother,” Vergil said as he put his hands under each armpit then leveled the child to his eyes. “Why are you like this?”

Helen didn’t deign an answer, not like she could, only looking wide-eyed.

“You’re her favorite person, Verg. _Second_ only to me, of course,” Dante grinned, walking to the sofa. He bopped his finger to her nose. “Hey, little El, time for your lunch. Bet you’re hungry, trying to gain this geriatric man’s attention,” he was lucky that Vergil was still holding his son’s daughter. Dante ducked away when one of his spectral swords chased him to the kitchen. From there, he could hear the opening and closing of the fridge.

“Remember what Kyrie said,” he called to Dante’s shuffling figure. His brother only waved his hand, the sound of something being poured and the stove turned on.

The shop was closed for the day. Nero and Kyrie had dropped by earlier in the morning, handing Helen to the two. Dante was delighted, nodding Nero’s warnings with Kyrie putting her bag on the desk. The man already too preoccupied with their daughter. Vergil ended up being the one to actually listen, then seeing them away to have a time off together around the City. The rest of the day, his twin was having the time of his life entertaining the child. Moving around the shop, letting her play with his hair, and downright being noisy. He had taken to reading and translating languages until Helen decided she was more interested in him.

It wasn’t as if he disliked his granddaughter or children in general. He just didn’t know much when it came to them. The rest of his family understood that, slowly but surely letting him hold Helen. He didn’t say much when the then-newborn was placed in his arms, blissfully asleep. His hand caressed the soft baby skin before congratulating Nero and Kyrie for their new daughter. His son had been beaming, almost buzzing with happiness despite hours before the labor he was very, very close to triggering due to the stress. Dante had even lessened his pacing and tapped his feet instead.

The worry was warranted. After all, Nero was still a quarter demon. That could lead to complications if they weren’t careful. He vaguely remembered some stories Eva had told them to sate their curiosity back then. Yet despite the tension, at the sound of the cries and Kyrie looking exhausted but happy, everything seemed to melt away. The room was crowded, some cooing and taking turns on holding the baby afterwards. Vergil sat at the corner that whole time. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Nero stealing glances at him. As if making sure that he didn’t just disappear.

“Okay,” Dante plopped next to Helen, “Lunch’s ready, little lady,” he said while giving the toddler her utensils. Helen immediately attacked the food, some of the peas rolling off the dining table.

Vergil tutted, wiping her mouth with a napkin. “Slow your eating,” he said as he lowered his hand onto hers, “the food won’t go anywhere.” To which she blinked, then moved her hands to a more measured pace.

He caught Dante’s eyes giving away the occasional _fondness_ (brows easing and eye lines crinkling), before turning his gaze to the abandoned books when Vergil stared a second too long.

“How’s the translation going?” He said as he put his head on his palm.

“Surprisingly well,” Vergil answered, walking to put them away for the time being. “Patty said she’s going to pick it up next week.”

Dante hummed, “You’re getting better, huh. Watch out now or Patty is going to exploit you,” he wiggled his brows.

“As if I’m going to let her,” Vergil scoffed, “She’s already signed a deal with me to share the commission whenever she needs my help.”

“That’s because you both are partners in crime. If it were me, she would just do above and beyond to drive me to the wall,” Dante pointed his finger at him. Still somehow bewildered how the two of them got along well. He never could have predicted that socially stunted, emotionally repressed Vergil, and Patty, the social butterfly who rivaled Dante’s big mouth, got to be all buddy-buddy and went against him.

After settling in the human world and having nothing to do aside from the jobs, Vergil rediscovered his thirst for knowledge. He glomped the books at Devil May Cry, except Dante’s magazines which he had burned much to Dante’s amused dismay. When nothing was left, he went to the city library but was disappointed at the state it was in. He then began to accumulate books in his room, either from a second-hand shop or the times the two visited Fortuna. The city had once not just been a holy city, but also a center of interesting research. Even when most of them were concentrated towards, what did Dante had eloquently put? Ah, yes, _world domination._

The number of papers and experiment reports were well-documented and organized neatly. Being the father of a former member of the Order had its unexpected perks of being able to access the most classified of the files. The Order was gone, destroyed more under the persecutions of Fortuna’s people than by what Dante and Nero had done to Sanctus and the Savior, though theirs had been the catalyst. After things eventually calmed down to an end, Nero and Kyrie felt an obligation to guard, and if needed, destroy whatever was left of the organization. As a promise to a person named ‘Credo’ they said. They knew that some of these papers were useful, things that could help in the future, but fell into the wrong hands, and something worse than what the Order had been could arise. They didn’t want that.

The whole endeavor proved fruitful when Vergil had a newfound interest in ancient and natural magic, things that branched from the general field of demonology. Every once in awhile there came clients that needed more thoroughness and diligence than the usual request of ‘kill this and you get the money’. Whenever that kind showed up at Devil May Cry, Dante let Vergil took the initiative. Speaking, investigating, and researching. It steadily evolved into things like dealing with cursed trinkets and questionable heirlooms. Things that were more intricate and precariously interesting to unfurl, if not anything more because of the foolishness and desperation humans often landed themselves in.

Patty had seized his blooming expertise like a shark to blood. Often coming with requests on helping with some runes or tomes discovered from her own network. He had not deemed himself, expert, enough though when Patty suggested they could broaden Devil May Cry in terms of services. Using guns, blades, and Devil Arms were enjoyable and all, but sometimes, less grime and blood was more than acceptable. Dante had voiced an unexpected agreement to that, seeing how his brother was always down to wipe the floor with demons. On hindsight, he should have remembered that despite the surface laziness Dante exuded, his brother was undeniably smart. His little brother may have been an annoyance that cut his reading time in their childhood, but he would at times found Dante perused books at Eva’s library. They just didn’t share the same sentiment in the genres.

Vergil picked up Helen’s plate, nodding when it was wholly empty. She grinned, babbles muffled as Dante wiped her mouth. “Good job, kiddo. You’re not very picky with your food,” Dante commented and putting her down from the chair. “Come on, you should change before you take your nap,” he let her followed him to the bathroom. The girl was light on her feet.

The older twin followed them to Dante’s room after. It was clean and orderly nowadays, the sheets changed with a blanket draped over for his grandnephew to sleep in. He continued his translating work of the ancient runes Patty sent him while Dante brushed Helen’s hair, who already started to yawn. One thing the two shared much to Vergil’s dismay was their love of sleeping. Nero had more than once slapped a hand to his own face when _Dante_ ended up asleep beside Helen whenever he was babysitting her. Thus, Vergil took his pens and work and spread them on the small table. Multitasking as he _knew_ his brother would close his eyes right after the toddler. (Dante always denied it, more like a habit than anything).

The phone was set with the alarm, resting on the nightstand. Vergil let the small snores lulled him into focusing on the letters.

\---

Lilly decides the spot beside Dante’s pillow to be her new favorite one. She curls up, eyes opened, but content to move as little as possible. Her tail brushing against his cheek. Something that Vergil grows annoyed with when she does that to him whenever he is working. He heaves a breath when she looks at him with a gleam in her beady eyes. If cats could smirk, this comes close to the impression.

He leaves her be though. The cat isn’t hurting his brother, keeping close whenever Vergil visits this room. She becomes familiar with the schedule, knowing when to follow Vergil as he walks through the hallway. 

\---

Winter Solstice was around the corner and Dante whooped as he raised his creation. Eyes shining and mouth grinning stupidly. The shawl looked almost black in the dim light.

“Ha! Oh, Patty would be so shocked that I finally win a bet this time,” he said and moved to put his work reverently inside the cardboard box. It was placed on the top of the bookshelf before he plopped onto the sofa, jostling Vergil. He paid Vergil’s glare no mind, content on sprawling and rubbing his hands.

“Stop hogging the sofa,” Vergil pushed him away. Mindful of the still drying ink on the card. He had taken to calligraphy as of late. His twin rolled his eyes, though still scooted away to give him space.

Months before, Patty had offhandedly mentioned how her partner shared the same uncharacteristic determination when it came to sewing. One thing led to another as Dante got his interest piqued, asking away until their conversation morphed into a debate. A quite pointless and useless one, common when Patty and Dante were concerned. It ended up with Patty pointing out that aside from her man’s ability to sew, he could also do crochet _and_ knitting. He had sulked a little after Patty left. Her tasting victory, once again.

He hadn’t been intending to actually win their bet of him learning, at least, to knit. Seeing he was impatient when the subject bored him. But then halfway through, accompanied with cursing, Dante stopped and saw that huh, he could actually do this. Progressing his work to the months leading up to December. For a time, Vergil was blessed with blissful silence as Dante hunkered on the desk knitting with wools. It made quite the impression whenever a client came by. Witnessing a tall, rugged man, not to mention having the title ‘Legendary Devil Hunter’ could incite notable imaginations. Anyhow, Dante was looking forward to see Patty’s face when she opened his gift. He would definitely ready the camera to immortalize his once in a blue moon winning.

“Hey, Verg, where do you put the camera?” He asked as he opened their cabinets.

The things around the shop were accumulating. Some useless trinkets, the mounting documents that were labelled neatly, gifts from grateful clients and those who couldn’t afford their service, and many more. They decorated the shop, giving it veins, pumping life that was wholly unforeseen, yet Dante valued. One time, when he came back to the shop, alone and tired, he amazed himself when he referred to this shop as ‘home’.

“The usual place,” Vergil answered, not looking up as he finished the final touch to the card.

The thoughts of documenting their finished exterminations in pictures never crossed either of them, until it bit them in the ass when one hissy client demanded it. He had been a wealthy businessman, paranoid and egotistical. His needs on having a spartan hold on his spending didn’t help. _Dante_ had been close to cracking when Lady and Patty came swooping in to mediate. Since then, the camera was always brought, both not wanting to have to deal with that disaster again. It cost quite a fortune, but they had much to spare now that Vergil finally beaten it to Dante about the basics of money.

The camera was charged with its memory card checked over. Then Dante, because he felt like it, inserted the card to the tablet. While its primary use was for the job, pictures of Nero, Kyrie, their daughter, and the others were often found in the gallery. Their bookshelves had two photo albums now, placed between tomes and bind papers. Occasionally, Dante would return with newly printed ones tucked inside a file sleeve. Vergil saw how he wrote small notes at the backs and added them into the album.

Another frame was placed beside their mother’s on the desk as of late.

\---

Cleaning the house by himself always takes the whole day. It is a never-ending task. Dust is quick to settle again, the sheets and curtains requiring the usual washing, and the dishes won’t clean themselves. It is repetitive. Vergil doesn’t mind. It is something that both grounds and distracts him. Lilly is also becoming something that demands his attention. What with the frequent meowing to feed and pet her, along with the constant need to watch out for her casually knocking things off just for the sake of it.

He needs to busy himself. The daily tasks, his current hobby, and the cat are felicitously good enough to pull him from the edge and thoughts.

Before, Dante was the one to do just that, but now his brother only lays there in the bed. Never answering him no matter how loud Vergil yells.

\---

The new house was only a few blocks away from the orphanage.

“The family is going to get bigger,” Nero scratched his nose as he and Vergil shared the usual nightly patrol whenever his father visited Fortuna. The night sky glimmered since Fortuna’s light pollution paled in comparison with the City. “We don’t mind sharing the current house, but Nico and the people at the orphanage insist that the three of us to move out,” he said as they neared the local forest.

“They are right,” Vergil hummed as he motioned Nero to draw his weapon. Some demons were prowling around on the trees. “You need more space. Helen is bigger now; I’d wager it would be nice if you have a house all to yourselves.”

While several of the orphans were grown and old enough that they started to share apartments with each other, the arrival of the couple’s second child would crowd the place. Not to mention that Helen liked to have her own room, even if she didn’t show it. Knowing that the place needed as many rooms as possible available for the others. You couldn’t expect how often people abandoned their children, either at the front door or the streets.

Helen had been excitedly exploring the new place. Slipping through the bustling adults who were setting up the place. Kyrie had batted Nero’s hands away when he tried to take the boxes from her hands, worried that she was lifting too much. She smiled at him and he promptly stopped, but still hovered at the corners.

They never planned for another child, but things happened and well, it wasn’t like they both didn’t want one specifically. Dante had once again grinned that trademark grin of his; shit-eating, proud, and annoyingly suggestive that only his uncle could pull. His father was calmer, smoothly accepting the news, only inquired about Kyrie’s wellbeing and the possible due date (because last time they kind of did a terrible job marking it down).

If enough years hadn’t passed by between them, Nero would have misread Vergil’s coolness with nonchalance. He may not be as expressive as Dante, but the man minded Helen with a distinct softness, contrasting the sometimes aggressiveness he displayed to Nero and Dante. Besides, Vergil didn’t leave and had actually waited together with him at Helen’s birth, holding her in his arms for a moment after. It admittedly dashed the small uneasiness deep inside Nero that he still had had when Vergil started to settle as a family with them.

In his childhood and teenage years, Nero never expected much from the people around him. Content in the things he was allowed to have, despite the hole that quivered during the night. Credo and Kyrie had helped in closing it, looking out and cared for him in their own ways. It almost ripped open again when Credo died. Yet Kyrie never relented on her mission to ensure Nero was not plagued by the misplaced guilt he beat himself with. People saw Kyrie as the beautiful, elegant singer and nothing else, but under that layer of softness laid a steel strength that Nero was grateful for because she was willing to share it with him.

Still, the tendency to stop himself from expecting more had still been there and was the reason he didn’t voice his suspicion on his relation with Dante back then. There was only a minuscule number of people who had such white hair with some sort of demon blood that was not from experiments after all. Looking back though, Nero was glad that he didn’t ask. It would have been too soon, and Nero was still too young to accept whatever stilted answers Dante gave. Along with that, he wagered Dante himself was also not ready and confused on what to say. It took a while to finally find his answers, what was with getting his arm ripped off and the sudden revelation bomb during the heat of the situation. In the end, he knew about his true lineage, the legacy within his blood, and most important of all, he had a family as small and imperfect they were.

The demons were easily dispatched of, much faster now that Nero had the incorporated Devil Arms on his arsenal. They finished the rest of the patrol in relative silence. Nero walked beside Vergil who gazed at the stars, a distinct quirk whenever the night sky was clear enough. The two dropped by the orphanage as per usual, informing that they were done with their shift. Some of the Holy Knights had resumed to keep on becoming guards for the town. At least one would station themselves to watch over the vicinity, especially during the night. Nero greatly appreciated it. The man nodded and bid them a pleasant evening, telling them that Dante had already gone back.

“You know,” he started as they neared his new house, “Dante is really good with kids.”

On first glance, the old man didn’t strike him as such. What with his flamboyant flairs and honestly, Trish and Lady were not the most prudent with their fashion choices. Added with Patty’s story about her and Dante’s meeting, it didn’t really paint a convincing picture. But Dante turned out to be a textbook example on how to not judge a book by its cover.

Vergil huffed, “It’s because he is also one,” and Nero chuckled, “Okay, that’s true,” he said as they arrived at the front porch.

”But does he ever considered...” The younger man waved his hand in the general direction of the voices in the living room.

His father raised his brow minutely, considered, before answering with a short, “I do not know.”

Nero expected as much. He shrugged, “Well, it’s cool, I was just curious,” he said and soon they were greeted with Helen barreling to him.

“Dad!” She smiled, hugging Nero. His girl’s grip was very, very tight.

“Hey, you little rascal,” he ruffled her hair. Helen only widened her grin and made to look up at her grandfather.

“Hey, granddad,” she said as she grabbed his sleeve. “Come on, mom’s preparing dinner and I’m _starving._ Dante is being a sore loser because I get to eat his dessert since I beat him at Jenga,” the girl stuck her tongue when they reached the dining table. Dante trailed in, sighing as he put his hands in his jeans.

“Remember our deal, Dante!” She chirped when they were all sat.

“Yeah, yeah. Should have known not to push my luck,” Dante shrugged. Turned out his bad luck wasn’t exclusive to pokers and billiards and coin tosses. Surprise, surprise.

The dinner was filled with Helen’s rambling with her parents and uncle chiming in. Nero had all but forgotten their previous conversation, yet Vergil couldn’t help but mull over it.

In the past, he didn’t spare much thought on siring a child, preoccupied with gaining his father’s power. Obsessively so. The woman had been nothing but kind to him, as much as he could remember from that time. Fortuna had once been Sparda’s territory until he relinquished the island and ruled nowhere since. He was drawn to the place because of it, looking and trying to gather as many information his greedy hands could get on. Nero’s mother knew that he was not a normal human being but didn’t truly know the extent of it. They had fallen into bed one night when Vergil was stressed at the slow pace he was going in his quest. Young and foolish as he was, he didn’t have half the mind at the consequence. It was truly a surprise when he met Nero on the Qliphoth as a whole person. V never seemed to pick up, or rather, elected to not care in favor of defeating Urizen.

During their first year in the Underworld, Dante badgered him about Nero. Rising in intensity when he was in a particularly bad mood or during one of their worst fights. The disappointment in Dante’s voice was so poisonous that Vergil flinched inside. His twin was relentless in his questioning until there was a lull that gave way to an honest conversation between them. 

Now that he thought about it, it was interesting how Dante didn’t seem to have inclinations on starting his own family. It was not to say his brother was shy and didn’t have his trysts per se, though they were rare if what his longest friend, Lady had anything to say about it. Yet it was there, a _longing_ whenever Helen was with him along with his treatments of the children at the orphanage.

So, Vergil thought as he watched on, why didn’t he?

His brother answered his question during their late return to the shop.

The rain had been merciless, beating down on them, until they were more wet clothes than people. Both of them were lounging at the lobby after finally dried and changed. It was with a comfortably pleasant atmosphere that accompanied Dante’s voice.

“It did cross my mind once,” he said looking at the ceiling, “but after, I never paid much attention to it again. I don’t know, there were times when I was numb and didn’t think that far ahead, so I just dropped it. Then,” he clapped his hand on his thigh, “I’m in my forties and yeah, not planning any time soon.” Dante then turned his head at his brother, “What’s with the sudden question?” 

“Just curious,” Vergil said, standing up and decided to retreat to his room.

He felt Dante’s eyes on him until he closed the door.

\---

Vergil hisses at Lilly. The feline cowering behind the curtain. He then kneels, carefully picking up the camera. It isn’t cracked, thankfully. The carpet preventing it from that fate.

The device doesn’t work anymore, nothing more than some sort of token. A physical manifestation of reminiscence. He had made sure to extract all the photos. The ones that hadn’t been printed and took the time to write small notes on the backs. Sleeving them into the albums. A nifty little rune was placed to prevent any damage on each.

Whenever he feels melancholic, he will browse them. Some stained from the constant exposure to his fingers. It incites an ache in him. His hand often rubs at a photo in the one album which the cover has long lost its vibrant coloring. He is sure that the image is ingrained deeply into his mind.

Looking at the glossy paper makes him remember that one conversation with Dante. His brother never asked anymore on why Vergil had been curious in the first place. Seeing it as a mere out of the blue question and nothing else. Vergil chuckles wryly, head leaning back in his chair.

In hindsight, Dante’s choice on that matter was a saving grace for him at the end. In its shrewdly twisted way.

\---

Morrison had been a bit miffed recently.

Not at Vergil, Dante or any of the Devil Hunters. No, his problem lied with the appearance of hunter impersonators. Their sole objective was to sabotage others’ kills and targets, faking an identity to take slaying jobs as many as possible. They didn’t directly affect Morrison’s networks; he was indisputable and was one of Devil May Cry’s precious assets. He was just disheartened at the lack of respect on the unspoken rules devil hunting business was built on. It was actually frightening to see such complicacies and the organized chaos of the profession. Exceptionally so from an outsider’s point of view.

“They are employed by the same company,” the broker told them, drinking a strong whiskey from the shop’s bar. “The headman wants to gain some sort of monopoly out of this business,” he said and his eyes landed briefly on Vergil, “ever since that fiasco at Redgrave, which admittedly took the headlines for one whole month.”

“He said that he wants to make a _proper_ practice of demon exterminations,” Lady said with an air-quote. “The news outlet seems to make fun of him though,” she hit the cue ball.

“Well, he doesn’t look that charismatic,” Trish commented as she snatched a pizza slice, “I can’t see this going for long, honestly.”

“He’s just another salesman who thinks he can make huge profits,” Dante sighed and grabbed another pizza slice, seconds before Patty. “They don’t know what they’re dealing with and it’s going to twist their pants sooner than later.”

“I’m _praying_ it will be,” Lady let Nero took a turn, “I don’t like people getting in the way of my job and money,” she said.

At Dante’s raised look, she grinned, “Hey, I want to be secure in my retirement,” the woman crossed her arms, “ _That_ doesn’t mean I’m going to anytime soon, so don’t you hog all the jobs to them, Morrison.”

The man lifted his hat, “Wouldn’t dream of it, ma’am. I save the best ones for you always,” he puffed another smoke.

“You’re _still_ doing that? Really?” Dante rubbed his face, “No wonder I have shitty clients,” he leaned his head on the table. “This business has favoritism,” he weakly glared at the two.

Vergil knew that Dante knew it wasn’t true. Most of the time. But that was due to the fact that they were not bound by human limitations to heal and rest. Their demonic strength and stamina were rapid to go back up again. Of course, Morrison would chuck the more nasty but quick ones to them. The twins had the advantage of utilizing Devil Arms and if needed, Yamato to open portals. Human hunters needed time to prepare ammunition and travel means, though the experienced had long acclimated to their rough activities. Not to say per se that human hunters were bound to be inferior, oh no, he saw Lady and Patty and they were not.

It was difficult to measure power now that Vergil was wiser. There were too many variables at play, and it would be foolish to disregard them. To think lowly of humans would require him to dishonor his mother and denying his heritage. Something that he had come to loathe doing so.

“Anyway, I’m going back,” Patty announced as she collected her guns. “Got a date night, you see,” she winked and waved.

“Don’t do anything that I would do,” Dante called after her which earned him a stuck-out tongue. He grinned and waved back.

“I’m heading back too,” Nero placed the cue sticks back on the table. “Are you going to come over this weekend?” He asked.

“Yep, need to settle some score with El. I swear she’s cheating,” Dante pushed his chair. “But I don’t think Vergil is going, right?” He looked at him.

The older twin nodded. There was a request from Patty to accompany her on breaking a warded mansion, it needed to be done when there were less people around.

“Alright, then,” Nero shrugged then opened the door for Lady and Trish. “We’ll see you Saturday morning. _Don’t_ be late, old man,” he pointed at Dante before stepping out of the shop.

Only three of them were left. Morrison moved to snuff his cigar. The smell was getting prevalent and Vergil stared meaningfully at him. There was a moment before the broker talked again.

“Some of the company’s men are sniffing around,” he said. “It’s not serious, but they can get annoying, so be on the lookout, you two,” Morrison fixed his hat. “Just try not to scare them too much, alright,” there was mirth in his tone.

His younger twin grinned, leaning his hips on the desk. “You got it, Morrison,” he clicked his fingers, “you be careful too. I don’t want to look for another information broker, you’re one of a kind.”

The man laughed, fixed his hat again, and pushed the door. “Have a nice evening, gentlemen.” Dante waved and Vergil nodded.

He then felt Dante staring at him.

“What?” he turned to him.

“Don’t start that act on me now, Verg. I know you’re gonna set electrifying wards around,” Dante wiggled his finger at him.

“Don’t be absurd, dear brother. I’m not going to waste time concerning them,” he scoffed then added, “Not like they could get near as far as the street corner,” he allowed himself a small smirk. The effect would only to disorient them. If somehow, they got into the bustling streets while having severe dizziness, well that wouldn’t be his fault.

Vergil might not detest humans anymore, but that didn’t mean he would let them bank on his good grace. These people equated themselves to pests, sniffing around, trying to peek into the shop and by extension, their life. Binoculars ready at hands when they looked upon the devil hunters.

“Right,” his brother didn’t sound convinced. He would know what Vergil had done to the runes sooner than later. “Just don’t make headlines for homicide, yeah? I think we’ve passed that phase,” he said, and Vergil hit his back with Yamato’s scabbard. His brother only snorted, and after turning some of the lights off, he went upstairs. Most likely to sleep. They didn’t have any more things to do and Dante treasured his sleeping time.

He elected to pick his calligraphy set, using the quietness to finish where he left. As he poured the ink and moved the brush, he let himself think.

While neither of them had a long-term plan regarding the shop, he wondered if Dante would consider what Lady had in mind. Retirement didn’t fit Dante at all though. He couldn’t envision his brother content on whiling the days only focusing on his pastimes. His younger twin liked to move, to jump, to run, and to beat something up. He had always been the more hyperactive of the two. Along with that, the Devil Sword Dante and the other Devil Arms would start to become bored and would be hissy. All things considered, he couldn’t completely see the scenario where Dante would stop anytime soon.

It wasn’t as if Vergil would with this demon-hunting business. He deserved to choose what he wanted and was owed so many discarded years that he was making up for. The world had many things to offer and he was only getting started. The need to draw Yamato would invariably be there, the sword an extension of his own, but there would always be enemies to slay with her.

Devil May Cry would exist as long as Dante and Vergil allowed it. He didn’t know what Nero would do just yet, seeing how he had a growing family, and it would be precarious if he disregarded the need to see them safe. But his son was the same when it came to the annihilation of their enemies. His blood laced with the need, a part of his lineage.

The demonic blood would become diluted as the family’s legacies went on. It was inevitable and Vergil doubted Sparda would mind if he were alive today. That was alright. It meant that they would have smaller targets on their back, likely to be blessed with the things that had been robbed from the Sons of Sparda. Dante would make sure of that, more stubborn and aggressive than him on that matter.

But family was family through and through, Vergil intuited that exposure would mean there was a probable chance that Nero’s children would follow in his footsteps. Helen and Seth had already become familiar with Nero coming home roughened up and with closing lesions. The children themselves having the healing factor. If it weren’t for it, Helen would have scars all over her as she was prone to climb and do stuns.

His granddaughter was interested in Dante’s arsenals, holding, and turning them around under Nero’s watchful eyes. She shared so many traits with the man, she might as well be a mini version of his brother. He often heard Nero’s complains while Vergil held Seth. More subdued and tranquil to spend his time away from the rowdy duo.

If, and only if, they expressed attentiveness to this (family) business, then Vergil would train them. They still possess the abnormal strength in their blood. He would teach them, alongside his brother and his son. These children would grow, finding their own paths, and maybe, in the future, he would consider giving them an inheritance. Without the demonic business of blood, of course. The Sparda had enough of their fill with patricide and fratricide.

He wouldn’t know what Dante and Nero would think of this, still having a dear hold on each of their beloved weapons. Vergil himself would not give Yamato anytime soon, the sword’s loyalty only to her master. She shared the same ferocity with Red Queen, now infused with a Devil Arm. The two swords amusingly shared a distaste with Devil Sword Dante. Its brash, rude, and volatile nature didn’t sit well with either of them. Something that his brother complained when he had to touch Yamato or Red Queen.

Anyhow, this thought of his was something that he would keep to himself for the time being. Helen and Seth were still young, so much so. There was nothing that demanded their time to become something soon.

Not when there were three awakened and ever-watchful Spardas around.

\---

His cat raises her furs at the armaments on the table.

He has put her outside or at least away whenever he does this, but Lily always slips through his grasps. The feline keeps raising on her haunches, despite knowing what is in store. He shakes his head; he will never truly know what is inside her head.

His fingers slide along the sharp edges, hearing their thrumming becoming more hushed. He strokes them with his other hand, deliberate and feather-light.

“I know,” he murmurs, listening on as their voices die down. “Have more if you demand so.”

The blades drink the red liquid with fervent greediness. Acquiescing to be silent once more. They long to be drawn again, but even they can understand their master’s abstinence.

\---

Vergil took back his plan.

The children would be trained, _regardless of_ whether they would join the family business or not.

Yamato had slashed open a portal right then and there at the hospital ground. The three devil hunters uncaring at the gawking and gasps around. Nero practically dived into it. His son ignored Dante’s calls as he also entered the portal, with Vergil right at his tail. The familiar landscape of the Underworld surrounded them as they made their way.

Nero was fuming, the air around him shivering with the telltale signs of his Devil Trigger. Beside Vergil, Dante looked exasperated, but nonetheless angry. He took it upon himself to close the gaps between him and Nero.

“Nero,” he stepped in front of him.

“Move it, father,” Nero growled. His eyes already turning amber.

Vergil shook his head. “No, calm yourself first. It would not do if you lose control,” he pushed at Yamato’s tsuba, “So calm yourself or I’ll _make_ you.”

There was a tense minute with Nero flexing his fingers before he closed his eyes and took a deep, deep breath. When he opened his eyes again, his eyes had returned to their usual blue.

“You cool now?” Dante caught up with them. His hand clapped Nero’s shoulder.

The young man nodded, “Yeah, yeah, I’m cool,” he rubbed his neck. “Sorry about that,” he glanced at Vergil.

“Nothing to it,” he said as he turned to resume their walk. The denizens hadn’t been alerted by their presence. Soon though, they would have to fight.

“The ladies are keeping them safe. They got this, kid. Let’s just focus on kicking the guy’s ass,” Dante summoned his own sword and hefting it over his shoulder. “He doesn’t know who he’s messing with.”

“More like he undermines us, brother,” Vergil piped in, letting his spectral swords appeared, “Benor thinks he can cause mischief as a mean to a duel, and that shall be his downfall.”

The small swarm of demons had appeared and crashed through the windows of the house. A hellhound had homed in on Seth, it could have caused severe injuries if not for his sister shielding him. Kyrie who heard the crash simultaneously fired her gun. Emptying the magazine until the hound was no more than a pile of ash. From the hallway, Lady rushed in, pulling the children as Kyrie kept on reloading and shooting to distract their getaway. The crushed crystal flare pinged on Vergil’s senses and they had dropped everything.

By the time they arrived, the back of the house was in shambles. The women had managed to push Helen and Seth into the basement as they fought back the horde. Dante had pinned the last of them, angling the Devil Sword to elicit pain. The gasping demon weakly uttered their master before crumbling to dust.

“He’s going to taste my fist when I get to him,” Nero gritted his teeth. The demon lord thought it was smart to rile and bait them by going after his family. His wife. His children. Oh, he would bring the fight to that fucker. He answered the invitation, and he would _crush_ him. No mercy, nothing to spare to the one who almost killed his own.

Dante and Vergil could feel his bloodlust in spades. The former keeping to himself while they headed to Benor’s territory.

“Get ready,” Vergil warned when they saw the raised hill over. “Benor might want to fight you head-on, but the rules in this world are made for cheating,” he drew Yamato. The oncoming hordes were shrieking, ready to draw their blood for their master.

“I don’t care,” Nero spat and readied Red Queen, “I’ll defeat him no matter what,” he proceeded to burn through them like waves.

Dante stood alongside his twin, lips thinned, and letting his demonic energy crackled. He nodded when Vergil glanced at him. A short conversation to stand back. To let Nero has the enemy’s head.

That didn’t mean the twins couldn’t have their own portion of vengeance. The older twin slashed and slashed, while the younger twin pulverized. Their destruction accompanied by the shrill cacophony of their family’s rage. The Underworld seemed to shudder at the combined fierceness, the leftover denizens of the territory crawling away, only to be squashed under their feet.

Benor had his mallet ready when Nero kicked down the barrier. Bluewings flaring and claws diamond-sharp. There was a flicker in Benor’s eyes as he swung at Nero. Their fight was short and savage and bloody. The demon lord didn’t stand a chance, and Nero smiled a morbid one as eyes widened before he swung Red Queen down. Decapitating the head and made to put it on a spike at the top of Benor’s own throne. It was a sign of subjugation, announcing him as the victor. Nero roared in his triggered form. Reverberating to the world’s ceiling.

The bloodlust was still prominent as Vergil and Dante neared him, though there was intelligence behind those slitted eyes. They stared at one another for a minute, Vergil not sensing the adrenaline going down. His brother tapped at his arm, giving him a raised brow, then letting his sword crossed with Nero. He watched as the two went at it, bouncing from one to the other. Snarls and grins in equal measure. Vergil sighed. Once again drawing Yamato’s blade to join them. 

They were greeted by Lady as they stood at the hallway after.

She looked at them all from head to toe. Nero ignored her as he entered, quickly discarding his jacket as he checked over Kyrie and their children. Two towels were thrown at the twins by Lady as she pointedly told them where the nearby washroom was. The hospital cleaning staff would be having quite the time to clean the bloody trails. It was fortunately late, most of the people that lurked around were the doctors, nurses, and occasional insomniac patients.

Twice they were stopped by someone, almost steering them to the nearby Emergency Room. Twice they perplexed them to see no visible wounds. Ripped and smelly clothes aside. When they reached the washroom, Dante had dunked his head into the sink. Sprinkling water everywhere as he whipped his head around. Vergil almost stabbed him for that.

“We really should teach the kids how to defend themselves,” Dante said when they were splayed outside. Trish and Lady had kicked them out from overcrowding the room, only giving them time to see Nero and the rest asleep. The children piled around Kyrie. Bandages on their arms and legs, with their mother having patches on her face. Nero had changed into clean clothes and not smelling the room, something that was used against the twins as they were booted out.

“I have contemplated such,” Vergil answered as he rested against a tree. “While they are free to decide what they would do, I’d wager Nero will not mind if we lay down some of the basics to them.”

His brother crossed his arms behind his head. “Yeah,” he said as he looked up, “they need to learn to kick ass early,” and then grinned, “I’m going to get them to kick your ass,”

“Hilarious, brother,” he opened his eye at Dante, “I think you would be the first to get yours kicked.”

“Want to bet?”

“I think your luck says otherwise.”

“Pfft.”

The breeze was cool, rustling the leaves, and touched their exposed skins. They healed fast, but maybe Vergil might need to investigate runes that would keep their clothing mostly intact. It promised to be an interesting search, finding something that was the equivalent of resealing fabric.

\---

Vergil puts Dante’s head on his shoulder as he moves the damp towel. The feeling of unnerve long gone concerning this is something he needs to do.

The heat has gone up lately, making the whole room feels stifling. He buttons the thin shirt, the maneuvering ingrained at this point. Lily moves away as he lays his brother down again. The bedsheets are already changed, fresh and soft. He folds the covers to his feet, preventing unwanted warmth. 

His hands then move to pick up the nearby shears. Dante’s hair has grown again. He snips diligently at the length around his shoulders. Usually, he leaves it be until it demands cutting, but Dante would have liked to not have them stick to his neck with the dampness. Thus, he cuts away, hovering a paper for the strands to fall on.

He is careful with his ministrations. Turning the blade away from the skin, mindful of its sharpness.

Vergil has to if he wants to avoid unnecessary scars no matter how small. His brother is different now after all. 

\---

Patty’s life was undoubtedly glamorous and over-the-top. Filled with the occasional gunpowder and demonic ichor. But still very much Patty. A combination of high-class primness and messy business.

So, Vergil had little surprise when she dragged him and Dante to exterminate some nests the night before her _wedding_.

“I don’t know much about before and after of a wedding, but,” Dante flicked bits of flesh from his coat, “Isn’t a bachelorette party better than, I don’t know, shooting babies and eggs at _one_ in the morning?”

“That’s so basic, Dante,” Patty snorted, feet dangling off the fenced edge. They were at a hill overlooking the city. Its lights rivalling the stars. “I need more than alcohol to let out the nerves,” she leaned her head on her arms.

The couple had been going steady for seven years, seemingly content of the status quo until one day Patty came strolling into the shop with a gleaming face. She had then proceeded to brandish the ring on Dante’s face, the diamond glinting off the shop’s light. His brother took a long look, switching between Patty and the ring and rubbed his face. Disbelief and happiness fighting their way to his face. The three had drinks thereafter with Patty haggling Vergil to make some pastries for the party. He refused to have to accommodate the amount, but he gave her a box to congratulate her later on. The months leading to her big day were filled with planning, frantic phone calls, and a couple of meltdowns, which honestly was a sight considering Dante and Vergil were basically sidelined. They hadn’t seen her much until now.

“Geez, kid. You’re going to be tired. Aren’t you worried that those bags of yours going to say hi at the ceremony?” Dante poked at her face.

She slapped his hand away, “Okay, rude. I’ll have you know that I hire the best makeup artist around, so maybe I should let him do _your_ face,” she poked him back.

“Hey, my face is as perfect as ever. If anyone needs to get some concealers on, it’s Vergil,” the spectral sword missed Dante’s face by an inch, “I think the guy will have the time of his life, Patty.”

“You do that, and I’ll have no responsibility to what happens after,” Vergil glared, “and I don’t think it’s going to be a good day for any of us then.”

His brother chuckled, leaning his arms on the fence. The three were silent for a while, Patty and Dante staring at the city below with Vergil directing his eyes to the stars above.

“You’re going to get married, huh,” Dante broke the silence. His voice low.

“Yeah,” Patty beside him answered. Voice equally low. “Never thought I’m actually doing it,” she murmured.

The hunter sniggered, rubbing his head, “Who would’ve thought. Feels like only yesterday I saw a squirt who snarked a lot,” he turned his head to her, “You’re all grown up, Patty.”

Vergil could hear a waver in her sigh, “Of course, I am,” Patty bumped his shoulder, “and you’re getting old.”

That earned her a ruffle to her head.

She squawked, batting the hand off, then proceeded to mess with Dante’s locks. The man guffawed but kept on leaning on the fence. Vergil felt like he was intruding something. Their display soft and familial in a way that made him stepped back. He grunted to let them know he was leaving. Only looking over his shoulder once to see Patty smiling at Dante.

The ceremony was vastly different than Nero’s. His son whistled at the church with his wife’s hand around his arm. Seth had chosen to walk near his grandfather, while Helen swung her and Dante’s hands behind.

“And here I thought Fortuna has big cathedrals,” Nero said. “She really comes from money, isn’t she?” He looked around the people and the décor.

“Well, she comes from a well-off family and her husband is also rich, so voilà,” Dante shrugged.

Several heads turned when the whole family entered to sit on the front pews. They made quite a sight, didn’t they? Mostly light-haired, ridiculously tall, and each member armed. The small swords hung from the children’s hips and clicking against the wood as they sat, while the rest opted to only had guns strapped to them. It was an unspoken rule that they had ever since _that_ attack.

Patty walked down the aisle with the flower girls and bridesmaids. Her white gown sweeping the floor, elegant and grand. She winked at them as the procession passed. The music stopped when she reached her groom. The man dressed in the usual black with flowers jutting from the front pocket added with a draped cloth over the right shoulder. They looked like royalty about to be married.

The exchanged vows were longer, different from what Fortuna had. No rings were exchanged, already being given days before in a smaller ceremony. The officiant tied a ribbon around their joined hands, giving them his blessings. The clapping was amplified by the building’s acoustic as they finally made it official. From the corner of his eyes, he could see Dante heaved softly, the corner of his lips tilted upwards.

After the formality of the ceremony, the ensuing celebration was more relaxed and merry. The venue was outside the city, surrounded by forests. The weather wonderfully dry. Clinking of glasses, the high and low conversations, along with the bustling guests accompanied the music. Seth sat beside him, eating leisurely at the food. Vergil slid a new plate of deserts which he happily accepted.

“Patty is going to give the old man back pains,” Nero said to his left. He drunk the last of his wine before dabbing himself with a cloth, “Poor man hasn’t been let off the dancefloor.”

“He’s surprisingly good at it. Average, but good still,” Vergil crossed his arms.

“Uncle Dante sometimes dances with us,” Seth piped in, “when we’re alone and Helen doesn’t want to sleep, he makes a game of it.”

Nero huffed, “Oh yeah, don’t you remind me about that vase incident,” he raised an eyebrow at his son, “I still remember how we couldn’t even lecture you both because you were falling asleep.”

Where Dante was concerned, the two children always turned into such _heathens._ He didn’t really understand how his brother could act with such childish energy at times. Admittedly he abused his brother’s bad luck whenever they flipped a coin to decide whose turn to train Helen and Seth to prevent such occurrence often. His son and daughter-in-law could only have a certain limit of patience. Particularly when their backyard was used.

“Oh look, Patty’s finally let him off the hook,” Nero sniggered at the approaching Dante.

He sighed, fixing his tie as he dropped down on a nearby chair. “I swear I’m not going to another wedding soon,” Dante grabbed the glass of water from the table.

“Funny, isn’t this like the second time you’ve ever been invited?”

“Not the point, kid,” he drunk the water in one gulp, his eyes still glued on the dancing newlyweds. “They really are made for each other,” Dante commented while he opened his mouth at the proffered cake from Seth, “Their kid is going to be a _menace,_ ” he patted the boy’s head as thanks.

“What makes you so sure they want kids?”

“Oh, I just know. Patty is the type to go all out,” Dante grinned at Nero who kicked his leg under the table. His kids were intimate with their antics but goddamn it, Dante was unbearable sometimes. “Ouch, okay, but really, they will be. Bet you it’s going to be three months,” he said, lifting his foot away from Nero’s shoes.

It turned out to be a month (Dante cursed his luck yet again), but he was right about one thing. The little boy made good on the promise of being a menace. Oh, Vergil could handle him just fine, the child respecting him enough whenever he was around, but Dante was a different story.

The boy was like a leech and a koala. He liked him (Patty had the humor to actually make him the godfather because of Vergil), yet at the same time when he was able to walk would trail after and latch, even climbed up Dante’s coat. Often after the two were left alone (Patty reasoned that as his godfather, he should spend quality time with her son), patches of colored scribbles would be plastered on Dante’s face. His hair was not safe either, almost getting a huge chunk of it cut. The son seemed to channel Patty’s needs to dress things up because he was having the time of his _life_ using Dante in their plays. Patty exchanged the snatched photos with baked goods with Vergil. His brother cursed whenever he found those in the albums.

Liam didn’t stop with this favorite activity even after he was older. Helen and Seth joined him shortly with it. Helen always cackled to the point of annoyance because it was _unfair_ how ridiculously good Dante pulled it off. Dante resigned to use that as an incentive and a reward during their drills.

“Okay, okay, focus now here, young lady,” Dante reminded as they lifted their swords. He opted to use a normal one than his usual sword. “When you decide to stop and laugh, it’s an opening,” he wiggled his finger and stepped into her space.

She jumped away, swinging her own sword to create distance. “I _know,_ uncle. Are you sure you don’t do this for an extra challenge?” Her eyes crinkled at the ribbons and painted nails.

“No,” Dante said and made to break her guard. They were at it for longer this time. Testing her stamina and prolonged focus. She was shorter than him, but nimble and fast.

Vergil sighed at the two, then blocked a jab from Seth.

“You’re getting quicker,” he commented as he deflected a kick. “But make sure not to swing wide. Use your core.”

“Noted, sir,” the young man nodded through their spars. “I think I’m getting the hang of this style.”

While the siblings shared their taste in combat, the younger one developed a liking in hand-to-hand rather than using weapons. Vergil heard the singing of blades as he instructed and guided the youngest Sparda. He was the quite one of the two and preferred to spend his time with Vergil, contrasting his sister’s means of recharging oneself. As they grew more and more, their differing personalities amplified. The older sister was clamorous, and the younger brother valued calmness.

It wouldn’t be long until they deemed the space of their house to be too small. Soon, Vergil expected one or both would be moving out. Their schooling was nearing its end, and he could see it. Lighting up in Helen’s eyes and more hidden in Seth. The inherent need to go out and find their place in the world. Like a bird that was restless to soar high. Something that caused them to butt heads with each other, and their parents on the rare times.

And they eventually did just that. Sharing an apartment for a while until they realized their lifestyles started to differ and opted to rent a studio for each of themselves. Seth continued to finish his study in a degree while Helen chose to help around the orphanage while she figured out her future.

Days, months, years passed, and he watched the youth expanded their horizons. As he expected, the two gravitated towards the business at the end. They would come by the shop, taking small requests now and then. Small steps, small beginnings to build their own networks and their own expertise. Nero took them on Nico’s van when the job needed extra hands, showing them the ropes and tricks. Nico herself giving them discounts for her service. Morrison always prioritized Lady and Dante but started to offer some to Helen and especially Seth because he was more likely available. His sister liked to be busy and moving around a whole lot, while he preferred a good big job that would reward him just the same. They lent themselves to Devil May Cry’s continued existence and in extension, their father’s legacy to keep the human world safe.

It was something that Vergil never thought would present itself in his life. The thought on seeing another generation of Sparda blooming never occurred until it flickered brightly. He supposed his brother shared that sentimentality. It was never mentioned between them, not even during those quiet and honest moments. But it didn’t matter, Dante and he had come to understand each other better. The cracked mirror mending itself. 

And it meant they didn’t need words when they started to notice the growing elephant in the room as the years went by.

\---

Vergil stares at his brother’s cut hairs, piling in the bin that he only throws out when it’s brimming. The schedule is always the same, and this time it’s no different. He stares and stares. Finding himself counting the impossibly numerous strands.

Keeps on doing it until his fist hits the mirror.

The soft sounds Lily makes are what stops him in the middle of the now wrecked bathroom. His fingers absentmindedly rub the blood and the shards embedded into his hands. He lets out a breath then, picking the cat away from the jagged sharps and broken ceramic tiles around. The cat whines when his blood touches her furs.

“Alright, alright, I’ll bathe you later,” Vergil murmurs, letting the cat out to the hallway so he can clean the mess.

The broken mirror frame is pulled down when he is finished. Placed at the yard to fix on another date. He’s too tired, strings plucked and exhausted in the most invisible way possible. It takes colossal strength for him to wash Lilly all the way to dry her. The cat purrs contently as she makes herself comfortable beside Dante’s pillow thereafter.

Vergil kneels on the bedside. His hands are already healed, the shards picked, and the blood washed off. Vergil uses his left hand to slide a finger on Dante’s cheek as he rests his head on folded arms.

“How long are you going to take this nap of yours, little brother?” He whispered with his head down.

“Please, wake up, Dante.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Midway typing this chapter I realized I have to be consistent with the words counts now. What have I put myself into lol and if you notice it, the story takes place between the present and the past. Why? Because I love hurting myself and thought it was a good idea to do this when I just got out of writer's block. 
> 
> Comments and kudos are my fuels and very much appreciated!  
> [My Twitter](https://twitter.com/blankballs) and [My Tumblr](https://cassia-bea.tumblr.com/)


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